The Emperor's Sword (3)

Kordos had long expected this road would not be easy. He had prepared himself mentally from the start, but mental preparation often only served as a finishing touch. On a real battlefield, the situation changed with every passing second.

Even a Bolter in good condition could malfunction. How much more so a man?

He narrowly dodged the sharp blade again, but failed to avoid the second swing. The traitor who worshiped Slaanesh treacherously drove the combat knife in his hand into Kordos's chest and abdomen. With just one twist, Kordos's life would end here.

Pain surged in like a tide. Anyone who had never been stabbed would not understand the feeling. It was as if a cold mouth had opened in your belly, and your life, along with every soft thing inside you, flowed out through that cold mouth.

But Kordos was used to pain. So he could do things that seemed impossible.

Without the slightest ripple, without even a moment's hesitation, he raised his left hand. Amid the agony and the poison on the blade, he aimed his Bolter at the traitor who was close enough to touch—Kordos was pleased to see the smile vanish from the traitor's face.

"—No!"

He screamed shrilly, like a complete coward.

"Yes." Kordos pulled the trigger, fearless in his eyes. "For the Emperor."

Once, twice, three times. A mass of pulped meat toppled to the ground with a dull thud.

Kordos slowly sat down against the wall. The vile poison had already begun to invade his mind, but he had not yet completely lost his combat ability.

I can't fall here. They still need me— He turned his head toward the two recruits who were struggling to hold off a traitor. One-Eye was beside them, cursing, filth spilling from his mouth as he